Curiosity Killed the Test Subject
by Dragaton
Summary: When Kyra discovers a mysterious shack, she wonders what it contains. She isn't prepared for the answer.
1. Chapter 1

Dappled shadows filtered through the sunlit leaves, casting their joyous movements onto my strawberry-blond hair. I sat drowsily against the mossy back of an oak, feeling the grass tickle my feet. The enormous field of wheat dipped and swayed before me in the gentle breeze. As I listened to the soft hiss of the shifting grasses, I breathed in the musty scents of the forest stretching behind me, and let out a long, satisfying sigh.

This day couldn't get any better.

The most peaceful place on Earth, I called it. The worries of the world slip away when you sit on the border between the known and the unknown.

I had never been beyond the edge of the forest. My mother had always warned me to stay in the safety of the woods. She said there were dangerous things out there. Which is why this had become my favorite spot. Tempting fate, as one might say.

I'd been coming to this particular place for a few weeks, simply staring into the massive void of wheat. Never once had I seen or heard anything dangerous. After the first couple days of gazing intently into the field and straining my ears for the slightest hint of danger, I let my paranoia slip. Soon my regular trips to the edge of the forest had become quite relaxing, a much-appreciated escape from reality.

I don't know if my mom ever knew I was out here. She didn't seem terribly concerned about me leaving the house nearly every afternoon; although, she did often tell me to be careful, in a way that made it seem like she knew something was up.

I stretched out in my mossy nook, gazing up at the clouds scuttling through the lazy afternoon sky. My mind wandered as I thought about what might be beyond the forest; beyond this field of wheat; beyond the only world I've ever known. Was it really as dangerous as my mom, and many others, kept insisting it was?

For the hundredth time, I thought about venturing out into the unknown. My father had done it, after all.

And look where that got him, my conscience flashed back.

I sighed and reached up to grab hold of the pendant resting on my chest. I rubbed my thumb over the sharp point of the tooth, studying the jagged edges. He had given it to me, back when he was still alive.

I remembered that day clearly. He had returned from one of his many expeditions beyond the woods, but he had been injured. My mom had seen him coming and sent me up to my room. I was nine at the time. I could hear my mom's strained voice through the door as she scolded my dad and tried not to get too upset, for my sake.

What felt like hours later, after my mother had patched him up, I was let back downstairs to see Dad. Pushing aside his injuries, he had scooped me up in his strong arms, squeezing me tight in a bear hug. He deposited me on a nearby stool. Grinning, he took something out of his coat pocket.

"Here, I want you to have this." He spoke gently, placing a small object in my hand. I could feel the rough edges against my palm. "To remind you that there is more in this world than you'll ever see. You should never fear the unknown," he explained. "Only do your best to understand."

I missed the weary glance my mother directed at him as I studied the tooth, feeling the smooth sides. I pulled my Dad into another hug.

"Thank you."

As I sat now, under the oak, I thought of Dad's words:

You should never fear the unknown.

I thought of my mom's warnings:

Never leave the safety of the forest.

I pulled myself up from the position I had been resting in, staring out into the stalks of wheat. The breeze died away, as if the whole world was holding its breath. As I stepped forward, I felt a slight tug of air from behind me, seeming to propel me forward, into the field.

One foot in front of the other; soon I stood on the very edge of the grass. Taking one last glance behind me, I took a deep breath, and did exactly what I had promised my mother I would never do.

I left the woods.

Walking cautiously forward, it seemed as though my senses were on overdrive. I could hear every rustle of wheat, every chirp of birdsong from behind me. I kept going.

As I got farther and farther into the field, the comforting sounds of the forest behind me faded into the distance. Now only the rustle of wheat and the cloud-speckled sky remained.

There was no end to the void in sight. Even the forest behind me had disappeared. I had no idea where I was going or what I was even doing. However, one thought burned deep in my mind: I had left the forest! The wind around me felt liberating, the grassy stalks tickling my arms and legs. I let a small laugh escape my lips. Although I had seen nothing but wheat so far, I now understood my father's never ending desire to explore the world. The chorus of feelings was intoxicating.

I traversed the expanse, my eyes on the horizon before me. I glanced off to the side as I noticed a small shape jutting out from the ground quite a ways away. I squinted, trying to make out what it might be. It wasn't moving, so I assumed it to be a structure of some kind. I changed directions to investigate.

As I got closer, I realized it was some sort of metal shack. What would a building be doing in the middle of a field? I wondered.

Soon, I had come close enough to see the debris around it, and to notice how run-down the place looked. The ground around it was a single square of concrete. Rust stained the bottom of the jagged metal walls.

I crossed the slab of concrete, my bare feet pattering on the hard surface. I tried the door, which seemed more firmly lodged in place than one would expect from the door of an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere. The handle didn't even jiggle.

Could I possibly pry it open? I searched for something to use as a crowbar, but all the metal debris surrounding the shack was either too big to lift or wouldn't fit between the door and the frame.

Disappointment washed over me. There was no way I was going to be able to get it open, even if I did find a suitable crowbar. The door seemed like it wouldn't be moving anytime soon, at least not without a key. Plus, who knows whose shack this was? I could get in trouble for trying to break into someone's property.

I sighed in defeat. I knew I was just making up excuses for myself to mask my disappointment. I desperately wanted to know what the shack contained, even if it was just boring old farm equipment. At least it would be something.

But no. I couldn't even get the door open.

Crestfallen, I turned back to the path I had made through the field. The grain I had trampled was painfully obvious. I hoped no one had been walking along the edge of the forest and had seen traces of my undisguised and completely forbidden trek.

I walked slowly back the way I had come, following the sun. It had become low in the sky, the slightest hints of red clinging to the horizon. The wind had died down, and the only noise to be heard was the grass under my feet as I made the long journey home.

I arrived on the edge of town later than I normally did. Walking between the last few trees, I gazed out over the settlement. Redcrest certainly lived up to its name; the red glow of the sunset cast its last light upon the valley, tinting everything in a cherry atmosphere.

I took up a jog as I passed by the farmer's fields that surrounded the central townscape. All of the settlement's food was grown within this fertile valley, providing for the people of Redcrest.

A few brave souls would sometimes make the long journey to a neighboring city in order to trade excess crops for manufactured goods. Every so often, they wouldn't return. Stories were told of abandoned carts found on the trails, with no trace of their owners. Many speculated on bandits or wolves, while others considered the looming possibility of a more sinister reason.

Whatever the case, the town had mixed feelings about these adventurers. They were either heralded as heroes, or they were discouraged from their risky endeavors. Often the families and loved ones of the travelers were the ones looking out for their safety.

I slowed to a walk as I neared the rickety gates of the town. I could tell that I was one of the last people through the doors as Humphrey, the gatekeeper, looked like he was preparing to close the gates. He seemed to be waiting for me, and uttered a friendly greeting as I approached the entrance.

"Out a bit late tonight, are we?" The elderly man called, holding one of the gate doors open for me.

"Yup," I replied. I didn't really feel like elaborating, instead wanting only to get home.

As I walked past, he let out a soft chuckle. "I really should ask you where you've been," he started.

"But you won't," I finished, grinning.

"No need to," Humphrey said, knowingly. He shooed me off with a small wave of his hand. "Now go on home; your mother's probably worried sick."

I thanked him and trotted away, missing the passing remark he made as he shook his head fondly.

"Just like her father, that one."

I continued through the town, making my way towards home. Not many people were out and about now that the sun had set, but the few that were greeted me warmly as I passed by.

The narrow brick path was lit dimly by the last traces of sunlight in the sky. The street lights began to flicker and were soon illuminating the winding road as well by the time I arrived at my destination.

Warm smells wafted through the inch of open window in the bakery storefront, making their way to my taste buds. My stomach rumbled in reply, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since I'd left that afternoon.

I walked down the back alley, realizing that the shop would be closed by now; too late for me to help with the evening duties before the doors were locked. Pushing through the back door and brushing my feet off in the mudroom, I poked my head through the doorway. I had found the room from which the delicious smells came. Of course, it was the kitchen.

My mom, Mari, was busy baking. What else is new?

Bent over in front of the oven, pulling out a fresh batch of rolls, she looked rather occupied. Bowls and utensils littered the counter, flour covering her workspace in sporadic patches. Bits of dough and various ingredients were stuck to the front of her gray denim apron. As she stood back up and placed the pan filled with bread on the stovetop, I leaned up against the doorframe. After a few moments of her blowing on the rolls and removing her oven mitts, she turned and finally noticed me in the doorway.

"Well, someone's home late," she chastened.

I lifted my hand in a partial wave. "Hey Mom."

She frowned at me. "Where have you been? I had to close up shop without you." Her hands rested on her hips.

I avoided the question with _extreme_ tact and skill. "I must have lost track of time," I explained lamely.

I mean, it wasn't a lie; I hadn't exactly been thinking about what time it was whilst trekking through enormous fields of wheat during my inconclusive adventure. However, it wasn't exactly the most solid excuse.

"Mmhm…" She looked at me with skepticism. Studying my face, she seemed like she was going to press the situation further. Instead, she only sighed in resignation and crossed her arms. "Well, you're going to have to make up for lost time by helping me open shop tomorrow, then."

"Fine," I replied, trying not to let my relief show. I quickly changed the subject to something safer. "Is that a new recipe?"

"Oh, this? It is! I got it from the Osborn's down the street." She began removing the bread from the pan with a spatula, gingerly placing each one on a cooling rack. "They said it was an old family recipe they never got around to trying, and Olive thought I might like to."

I walked closer to inspect the rolls. Spices were sprinkled throughout the dough, which looked buttery-soft. Taking in the delicious scents, my mouth began watering, and my stomach grumbled loudly.

"Go ahead," my mom said, letting out a small laugh. "Just don't burn yourself!"

Her advice came a little too late. I had already scooped up a roll and taken a large bite. I immediately regretted my actions. "Aah!" I exhaled repeatedly, trying to dispel the burning steam from my mouth and dropping the bread on the table.

She cracked. My ears were assaulted by peals of laughter as I stood there, practically becoming a fire-breathing dragon in an attempt to save my mouth from the pain that would follow.

It was too late. I ran, defeated, to the sink, vainly trying to salvage what was left of my taste buds. The cool water came as a relief, but there was nothing more I could do. When I felt safe enough to stop pouring cold water in my mouth, I glanced over to see Mom suppressing giggles in the corner of the room. I shot an accusing look at her. "You betrayed me!"

"I warned you," she corrected, her dimples creasing slightly. I tossed her a look that said "whatever." She rolled her eyes in return. I let a grin slip past my exaggerated disposition and turned to stop the water that was still pouring from the faucet.

I looked up from the sink, and my mom's eyes met mine. Her irises were a kaleidoscope of blue and silver. She sighed, still smiling, but now her gaze was filled with sadness. I peered at her questioningly. She took a few steps forward and placed her hand on the countertop, her finger tracing the edge.

"Your father used to burn his tongue all the time. He said it was because my baking was so good, he just couldn't wait for anything to cool off before he got the first taste." She laughed again, softly, and reached toward me. Her hand brushed my cheek as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You remind me of him so much."

A moment or two passed before she seemed to shake herself out of the fond memories, remembering all at once that she was a mother and needed to stay in the present. "Are you okay?" she asked, although I wasn't entirely sure whether she was referring to the burn or to something else entirely.

"I'm fine. It'll heal in a few days," I replied. I pulled away gently and walked over to the table, picking up the remains of the roll I had bitten from. It had cooled off slightly, but I was still sure to wait a bit longer before taking another bite.

I silently mourned my burnt tongue. I wouldn't be able to properly taste anything for days.

The room was quiet as I slowly finished my dinner and Mom returned to baking. It was rather late by now. The sun had long since set, and I was sure the stars would be extra bright tonight, since it was the new moon.

I finished the roll and reached for another. "I'll be on the roof," I told my mom. She glanced up.

"Be careful."

"I will."

I scaled the staircase, turning left at the top and leaving the house through the door at the end of the hall. After climbing up the metal balcony to the roof, I settled down in my perfect stargazing spot and ate my second roll in silence.

It was a warm summer night. A few lone crickets could be heard somewhere nearby, while the scent of bread mixed with the fresh air and the ever-present smell of dust. A faint glow could be seen coming from the direction of the street. I laid on a makeshift bed of crumpled newspapers and looked straight up. The stars could be seen clearly in the cloudless sky. They dusted the blackened canvas, freckles on the face of a celestial giant.

As I studied the patterns, my eyes tracing the constellations, my mind wandered to the shack I had discovered earlier. The thoughts had been shifting in the back of my head since I had first discovered the strange building. I pondered once more what it might contain. I had so many questions; why was it in the middle of a field? How was it that the door was set so firmly in place, to the point where it didn't even budge? For a building that looked run-down and completely abandoned, it sure didn't feel the part. I started to get the sneaking suspicion that whatever was in that shack was supposed to be a secret. Or, perhaps, I was just being silly. The idea that I might find something exciting behind that door was absurd. I was just overthinking it.

Yes. That was definitely it.

As I pulled my thoughts away from the mysterious building, I found myself thinking once more about the past. More specifically, three years ago.

The last time I saw him I was thirteen. On the night before he left, we had watched the stars, like we normally did. It was our tradition; every night, we would lay on the roof for as long as we could before Mom called us down. He would point out the constellations, calling each by their name, while I would make up names for the stars. They were often ridiculous, but they made my dad laugh, so I kept using wacky names even as I got older.

Sometimes he would sing. He had a soft, husky voice that I had always loved hearing. On some nights, I would sing along, but most nights I only listened. He sang many different songs, but there was one special song he always came back to. He would sing it to me when I was worried or sad or scared. It was a beautiful song, and his voice made it sound all the more enchanting. By the end, I would always feel better than I had before.

I hadn't heard it since… Well, you know. The melody was still fresh in my mind, however.

I was never a terribly good singer. My voice was merely average in comparison to others, but I could at least carry a tune.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

"Kyra, it's time to come inside!" My mom interrupted from the balcony. She must have finished the last batch.

I responded to let her know I heard, then listened for the click of the back door. A gentle sigh escaped my lips.

A fresh breeze stirred the air. Streetlights flickered nearby. I resigned to closing my eyes for a brief moment as my ears were filled with the crickets' mantra.

Reaching up, I was surprised to find that my eyes were damp.

It's been three years. Why am I acting like this? Why? Pull yourself together, I told my aching conscious.

I took a deep, shaky breath and did my best to retreat from my melancholy. Pushing myself up from the ground and away from the past, I forced my breathing to return to normal and wiped the dampness from my eyes. The familiar twinkle of the stars might have comforted me on any other night. However, at the moment they seemed farther away than ever.

I hummed a tune in my head, allowing the flowing melody to soothe my mind. Everything was ok. He might not be here anymore, but that didn't mean that he didn't live on in my memories, as long as I held tight to everything he was- no, is. I would remember him always; his smile, his beautiful voice, his adventurous spirit, and most of all, his songs. I would treasure them always, never forgetting a single note. It was the very least I could do to keep him alive in my heart.

I found myself holding the pendant strapped around my neck. The jagged edges comforted me as I ran my thumb over them. I stood like that for a few moments, gathering my strength.

Finally, I felt ready to return. Mom would be wondering what was taking me so long. I took one last look at the starscape above me. As I turned to go downstairs I saw a shooting star flicker in the corner of my vision. I smiled softly before continuing on my way.

Weary in more ways than one, I plodded back down the hallway and crashed in my room. I sank deeply into my pile of quilted blankets. I felt warm and safe, and fell asleep shortly after feeling my mom's lips press against my forehead and hearing her voice echo on the edge of my dreams as she whispered goodnight.

 **A/N:**

 **Hello and welcome to CKtTS! I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. It took me forever to finally post but I can assure you that it has been edited to my heart's content, and hopefully to yours.**

 **I'm going to warn you right now; I have been known to… Well… Leave, for very long periods of time. I'm very good at neglecting my fanfictions, to say the least. So, if I suddenly disappear and this is never finished… Well, I'm probably not dead. I most likely just got temporarily bored of it or something. However, if I ever discontinue this permanently, I'll let you all know.**

 **Well, after that lovely disclaimer, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction anyway, no matter how complete it gets!**

 **Also, I just wanted to say, I had a lot of fun building this simple beginning world. However, I've never played Half-Life, so if anything is horribly inaccurate to that side of the Portal universe, I apologize.**

 **Okay, I'll stop rambling now. Hope you enjoy the ride!**


	2. Chapter 2

When I awoke the next morning, I found myself formulating a plan. I would leave as soon as possible. I would bring food, as well as something to pry open the door.

My mind was made up; I would find out what that shack contained if it was the last thing I did. It would drive me crazy otherwise.

I pulled myself out of bed and lumbered downstairs. The kitchen was bright and bustling with activity. Mom was going through her usual morning routine, preparing to open up shop. A couple of eggs sizzled on the stovetop, while the oven was once more occupied.

I mumbled good morning to Mom and sat down at the counter. She again wore her gray denim apron. The edges of the fabric were frayed and faded.

"What'll it be?" Mom asked with a flick of the spatula she was holding.

"French toast?" I responded hopefully.

She gave me a sly grin. "Sorry, all out of bread."

"Very funny."

I decided to help and got up to find the ingredients. Soon enough, there were two slices of French toast sizzling side-by-side on the pan. Mom took a break to eat her eggs, while I kept an eye on the toast.

In my head, I ran through a list of things I would need for today's expedition. I would probably need to bring lunch if I was going to leave early. I would also need something for leverage on the door; I could pick up a stick or something on the way. Although it would need a decent point, so I needed a knife as well in order to whittle down the end. I couldn't think of anything else at the moment, so I turned instead to the plan.

It would be fairly easy to come up with an excuse to leave early, pockets full of food. I could simply tell my mom that I was going on a picnic. She would have no reason to be suspicious.

That thought in mind, I considered for a few moments how to word the question before I asked it in the most casual tone possible. "Is it okay if I go out early today? I was going to have a picnic in the woods."

It sort of scared me how easily I told the lie.

"Okay, but don't forget that you're helping me open shop this morning," my mom reminded me.

Right. So much for a head start.

I finished making my French toast and sat down with my plate. I smothered the toast with butter and sprinkled on a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.

As I ate, my mom pulled her last batch of pastries from the oven. This time they were bearpaws.

She left them to cool off while she went to the front of the house, where the shop was. I took a few minutes to finish breakfast and followed her. She was inspecting the baked goods in the display when I got there.

"Oh, Kyra, you're here. Can you finish checking all the displays? I need to make sure the register has enough change." I nodded and took her place, checking all of yesterday's leftovers to make sure they were still fresh enough to sell. I took the two-day old creations and moved them to the discount display.

We didn't usually try to sell anything that made it past the three day mark. Mom always worked hard to make sure everything in her bakery was fresh. Since we were the only bakery in town, however, everyone came to us for their baked goods, so we didn't often have to throw anything away. We usually ate what little had to be taken off the shelf anyway.

I helped complete a few other menial tasks such as sweeping the floor and washing the windows before she declared my job done.

I escaped into the back to gather everything I would need for my journey. I first climbed the stairs to retrieve a satchel to carry supplies in. Next, I took a knife for whittling and hid it in the bottom of the bag. I grabbed a couple of biscuits, a small chunk of cheese, and an apple for good measure, all wrapped up in a cloth to keep the dirt off. I also found a bottle and filled it to the brim with water.

Mom was unlocking the store entrance when I came to say goodbye.

"I'm leaving now," I said. She smiled at me and pulled me into a tight hug. Her caramel hair smelled of cinnamon and freshly-baked bread; warm and comforting.

"Have a fun time!"

"I will." I smiled back. A small feeling of guilt pricked at the back of my mind. I really shouldn't be doing this. If I didn't go, however, my curiosity would never be satisfied. It was like a pull in my gut; I just had to know what was behind that door. "Love you, Mom."

She loosened her grip, now holding me at arm's length, and smiled. "Love you too. Stay safe," she added as I retreated back into the kitchen and out of sight.

When I arrived at the mudroom, I paused. Did I need shoes? I never had before; I preferred the feeling of the ground beneath my feet, even if it meant that I had to be more careful of where I stepped. However, I wasn't sure exactly what I was getting myself into. What if I stepped on a rusty nail? What if I needed to run, for one reason or another?

I decided against it anyway. I would probably be more at ease without.

Certain of my decision, I flew out the back door and trotted towards the edge of town. The atmosphere was bright and the streets buzzed with activity as I went along. Everyone seemed to be out running their morning errands. I passed Lauri Cinders on her way to City Hall. Mr. Tenner, the local physician, greeted me with a nod and a "Good day."

I also passed Mr. Osborn, who happened to be on his way to the bakery. Mrs. Osborn was normally the one to stop by our bakery, and was the one I was more accustomed to seeing. Her husband was usually working indoors.

"Olive is busy preparing for the craft fair tomorrow," he explained, almost apologetically. I had nearly forgotten about the fair. It came every year, and I rather enjoyed seeing all the town's creations, even when I didn't have the money to buy anything.

Arriving at the gate, I smiled when I saw Humphrey resting in the shade cast by the cobbled walls. I called a greeting; he waved in response. I reached into my bag, pulling out one of my biscuits. "Here," I said, handing the bread to him.

"Well, that's mighty kind of you," he commented, grinning.

I smiled back. "You're very welcome. Besides," I added. "If I don't feed you, how will I know that you'll be in a good enough mood to let me back in later?"

He chuckled at that. "I'm always watching out for you. You can count on that." He nodded pleasantly. "Have a good day, miss."

"You too."

I continued along the well-trodden path. A few farmers were out working the fields. They had probably been at it since dawn; anyone that works outside in the sun knows that it's best to do the hardest work before noon.

I eventually reached the sloping entrance to the forest. It was another brilliant day: the trees danced in the breeze, their flickering movements reflecting on the ground in the form of shadows. The sky remained a cloudless blue void, feeling awesomely massive and seeming to be an eternity away.

I strolled through the trees, my mission temporarily forgotten as I breathed in the scents of the forest. The warm air smelled of dead leaves and growing things. Birdsong could be heard from high above. Everything was as perfect as this flawed world could make it. I couldn't help but laugh at the beauty and impossibility of it all.

I eventually came upon the stream that crossed through the forest. It weaved its way around trees and mossy boulders and would later leave the forest, slipping silently between the farmer's fields.

As I leapt to and from the single solitary rock peeking out from the water's surface, I decided to stop for a few moments to eat. Might as well use the shade while I have it, I figured. I found a fallen tree trunk near the flowing water and sat down.

I took a bite out of my remaining biscuit and cut a slice of cheese with my whittling knife as well. Grinning, I remembered the excuse I had given Mom for my early departure.

Silence seemed to fill the forest, save for the cheerful twittering of birdsong. However, listening closer, I could also hear the subtle crinkling of leaves nearby caused by a small creature, as well as the hissing of the canopy above.

I noticed a flash of movement in the corner of my eye and turned to look downstream. I froze in place, scarcely daring to breathe as I observed the creature before me.

Long, branch-like tendrils rose from its head. Its brown coat almost blended into the background. The majestic being lowered its graceful head to the water, only a few paces away. I stared until my eyes watered, not wanting to miss a single moment.

I shifted my weight as silently as I could, but accidentally bumped my knife, knocking it onto the forest floor from where I had placed it on the log beside me. The deer raised its head in alarm at the sudden noise. Our eyes locked for a brief second before the creature turned and bounded away downstream.

I slowly expelled the breath I had been holding in. My eyes sparked with wonder, the image engraved in my mind. I couldn't wait to recount the moment to Mom when I returned.

I finished my early lunch and resumed the trek. The landscape following the stream became slightly more difficult to traverse. Rocks and small boulders littered the space between the trees, and what little undergrowth there had been previously became thicker.

Even though I had traveled this route many times, I often found myself having to pause to rest and take a drink. It seemed that this had been a well-traveled path at one point. In the very least it had been well-maintained. Now plants crowded the forest floor and stones blocked the ground in some areas. This made travel difficult, but it was still faster than stumbling through brambles or scaling small boulders every step of the way.

While I stumbled through the woods, I started looking around for a stick to use later as leverage. I soon found one that was decently thick and already had a bit of a point due to the way it had been broken off the tree.

I got out my knife and began sharpening the end of the stick as I walked. The bark was relatively easy to strip off, telling me that this branch had been on the ground for awhile. After whittling away the soft outside, I was able to get at the smooth, solid wood underneath.

The ground crunched beneath my bare feet as I walked, and the surface felt uneven and cool in comparison to the air. The only sounds to be heard were my own breathing, the sound of metal scraping wood, and the shifting leaves above. A cheerful melody would occasionally penetrate the relative silence.

The trees thinned out slightly before ending abruptly at the edge of the wheat field. My heart fluttered in my chest. I still wasn't entirely comfortable with what I was about to do. I had been here many times and I never saw any sign of danger, but my mother's warnings must have still had some impact on my reasoning. Either that or my father's death had something to do with it.

Standing uncertainly, stick in hand, bag resting across my shoulder, I took a deep breath. The sun felt warm on my face. The tall grass before me whispered earnestly, urging me to continue. I complied with its demands and stepped into the field of shifting stems.

I was able to follow the same path I had taken previously. The trail was still quite obvious, but a little less so, since a few of the blades I hadn't trampled as thoroughly had started to recover. The stalks beneath my feet felt strange in comparison to the soft grass at the edge of the field. I flattened the long blades once more, wondering if I should be covering my trail a little better. I shrugged, figuring that no one ever comes out here anyway.

The nervous tension I had felt up until this point drained out of me within the first few paces. While still holding my whittled branch, I reached my hands out on either side and felt the wheat heads tickle my arms. I giggled and ran down the narrow path, arms sticking out like twigs, joy and innocence reflecting briefly in my moment of carefree impulse.

Eventually I had to slow down to a walk in order to catch my breath. The sun was beating down now that I was out in the open, and it made it all the more difficult to keep up a faster pace.

Taking a sip from my water jug, I thought about Mom. She would be furious with me if she knew what I was doing. I was not only beyond the forest, but I was also about to commit what might be considered breaking and entering.

Well, as long as she never found out, everything would be fine.

The strap of my bag tugged on my shoulder, the contents bouncing against my leg. A breeze stirred the grasses around me; the hissing sound they made were reminiscent of a waterfall. The wind toyed with me, blowing my hair into my face. I brushed it aside and looked up to see a silhouette on the distant horizon.

Feeling all the more eager, my step became livelier and my bag seemed to weigh me down a little less. Although the structure was still quite a ways away, I couldn't help but feel anxious to arrive.

As I drew closer, the nervous tension I had felt earlier returned. The mystery that had been tugging on my mind since the day before was finally going to be solved!

Of course, it was possible that I was building up all this inward suspense for nothing, but I couldn't help myself.

The shack was only a short distance away now. I could see the debris scattered around it, and I could locate the rust spots on the walls.

Finally reaching the slab of concrete surrounding the building, I paused. The smoothened platform had been warmed by the sun. Countless years could be seen on its surface, through cracked edges and wind-blown surfaces.

I approached the door, holding my makeshift crowbar. I glanced around nervously. A small part of me was still considering the possibility that this shack wasn't actually abandoned. I mean, it was locked; obviously there was still someone who wanted to keep others out. Either that or the owner had died, leaving the shack to never again be opened.

However, I dropped all of these notions in a single, heart-stopping moment. I had reached out, ready to pry open the door, when I realized…

The door was already open.

 **A/N:**

 **OH BOY! THE SUSPENSE! C;**

 **I hope you've enjoyed this second chapter! We're finally about to enter Aperture, so that's pretty cool.**

 **This chapter has been done for a few days; I just hadn't gotten around to posting it until now. That's partially on purpose, mind you. I don't want to just spew out chapters as soon as I'm finished with them. Writing takes time. So does editing. I also don't want to have wildly different or long amounts of waiting time between chapters, which means that I won't post a chapter I've already finished until I'm at least halfway done with the next, and a little time has passed (around a week). Gotta pace myself here!**

 **Anyway, enough with the rambling.**

 **If you have any critiques or comments please go ahead and leave them in a review. Any and all constructive/encouraging/somewhat relevant reviews are appreciated (:**

 **Onwards!**


	3. Chapter 3

I stared in disbelief. Sure enough, the door was unlocked and open. It was only a crack, but it was enough to fill me with unease. Was someone nearby? Had the owner returned? Were they _inside right now?_

I was a statue. I listened carefully for any sign of life. I heard nothing, but that in no way assured me. Barely allowing myself to breathe, I inched my way towards the metal door, holding my stick aloft; at least I would have a weapon if I needed to defend myself.

All my senses were strained, my muscles tensed. I was prepared to either fight or flee at the first hint of danger. My hand reached out almost involuntarily and began to pull open the door.

I had come up with a number of theories for what might be contained within the rust-covered outer shell. However, I hadn't anticipated _this_.

Inside the four metal walls stood a large, transparent cylinder. Three steel beams supported the sides of the circular walls, each appearing to be an equal distance from one another. A thin railing could also be seen surrounding the inside of the smooth outer crystal, while a strange jumble of metallic parts sat motionless on the other side of the cylinder.

In one, swift movement, the front of the glass slid open, hissing softly. I jerked backwards, not sure what to expect next. A cool breeze flowed from the entrance. It smelled stale, as if it had never felt the warmth of the sun or mingled with the fresh scent of the outdoors.

The clean, white appearance of the cylinder stood in sharp contrast with its surroundings. The shock was like seeing snow on a warm summer afternoon; I couldn't tear my eyes away.

I forgot about turning back as my curiosity overtook my need for caution. Stepping forward, I reached out my hand in wonder. I ran my fingers along the side of the transparent surface. I took yet another step and made contact with the smooth, white floor. It felt alien under my dirty and calloused feet.

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder, before lifting my remaining foot up off the concrete and onto the circular platform. A chill seeped into my body, causing me to shiver.

A panel on the left steel beam caught my attention: a black black screen with glowing red dots being displayed in a column. Did it have a purpose? I began to wonder what this all meant. Why was any of it even here?

Glancing down, I noticed a strange, circular symbol on the ground. It looked hauntingly familiar, I just couldn't...

I felt sick. I needed to leave. Whatever that symbol meant, it didn't feel right.

I needed to go _now._

I turned around just in time to see the glass slide back in place, trapping me. I felt my throat closing up. The cylinder began descending into the earth.

In a moment of clarity, I pulled back the stick I still held in my hand and swung as hard as I could. It barely put a dent in the surface. I watched in horror as the last trace of sunlight disappeared behind the rising wall of dirt.

My heart pumped a million times a minute. I had never been claustrophobic before, but now I felt as though the walls were closing in around me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't do anything. I was a helpless, cornered animal.

All logic abandoned me and I began launching my every effort at the dent in the wall. It expanded into a crack. I stabbed it again and again, until it started spreading across the crystal surface. Relentless adrenaline pumped through my body as I flung all my desperation at the breach.

Just as I felt I was getting somewhere, the stick snapped. Splinters flew everywhere. I staggered forward and was unable to catch myself as I lost my balance and fell, head-first, into the wall.

I found myself slumped on the floor, exhausted and shaking. I must have blacked out for a moment, because I didn't remember falling; however, the splitting headache I now felt confirmed it. My body felt sticky with sweat and my hands trembled uncontrollably. My fist still clenched half of the stick, knuckles white from the tension. I forced my hand to relax and let go of the weapon.

As my chest heaved and I lay crumpled against the wall, I was finally still enough to notice my surroundings: the previously dirt walls that had encompassed my glass container had changed, being replaced instead by more metal. Truss and steel surfaces lined each side of the shaft.

Occasionally, the walls surrounding the glass would disappear, allowing me a few glances into separate rooms filled with black and white walls. None of them had any purpose that I could see; however, the rooms often held simple objects that must have had some use: cubes, buttons, tubes - even water, at times. Each room made less and less sense to my fuzzy mind, and I honestly had no intention of piecing together the puzzle of this other world; all I cared about was finding a way out of here.

My mouth felt dry as I watched floor after floor pass before my eyes. How far down would I go, and how could I possibly find my way back to the surface? Dark, swirling thoughts filled my mind. I did my best to ignore them, grasping to whatever hope I still had. As the platform continued to descend, I carefully picked myself up from the ground, my limbs weak from adrenaline.

Eventually, I arrived in a large, round room. An enormous mass of metal and thick, black wires dominated the center of the space, hanging from the ceiling. Feelings of unease coursed through me as I stared at the figure, hoping for once that my prison would keep descending.

Naturally, that meant that this was the room it chose to stop in.

My heart sank. I eyed the tangle of machinery as the glass door slid open. Apart from the eerie silence, I was unsure what it was about this place that set me off, and I didn't really want to find out. Not that I had any choice.

The air that flowed around me felt sharp against my sweaty skin. I took a slow, deep breath; unnatural smells filled my nose, and I felt myself longing briefly for the musty scent of the woods. Birdsong, rustling leaves, the dirt beneath my feet… I opened my eyes as a pang of uneasiness interrupted the familiar images, dragging me back to the problem at hand.

Reluctantly, I stepped off the platform. My bag weighed heavy on my shoulder. The sheer size of the room made me feel small. It didn't help that my head still ached and I had begun to feel sick again.

Glancing back at the transparent cylinder, I surveyed the damage I had done: I had made a huge crack in the glass, while my whittled stick lay on the ground in two pieces, splinters scattered all over the floor. It was a wonder that I hadn't gotten any stuck in my hands or feet.

I turned back around. My eyes refused to focus. I shivered, not really from the cold, as I scanned the room tentatively. I searched for any doors or hatches: anything that looked like a possible exit. I saw nothing but empty walls.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to make the most of my situation by exploring what little there was to explore. First, I crossed the room. Not directly; I stayed as far away from the center as possible, always within a few feet of the circular walls. I wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of getting close to whatever it was that was currently dangling in the middle of the room.

As I walked, I noticed gaps between the black panels that covered the walls. Upon closer inspection, it looked like there was a fair amount of space behind the dark surfaces. I wondered briefly if there was anything back there, and if there was any way I could pry open one of the spaces in order to squeeze through. However, one solid tug on a panel told me it wouldn't be an easy thing to do.

I did a complete circle around the outskirts of the room and ended up back at the glass cylinder. Although I hadn't discovered any obvious exit besides the way I had entered, I had come up with a number of possibilities.

There were three options I could take. First, I could see if getting back onto the moving platform would cause it to return to the surface. Second, I could attempt to climb the tangle of wires and metal in the center of the room and hope that there was some sort of exit in the ceiling where the wires poured from. The third and final possibility was that I could use my broken stick to pry apart the panels surrounding the room. Although, the shaft had already broken once, so I was unsure as to how much pressure I could put on it before it snapped again. I wondered briefly if it would have ever been successful in opening the door on the surface in the first place.

I decided to try the most obvious choice first: getting back onto the platform. I stepped gingerly into the glass container, trying to avoid the splintered wood on the floor. I faced the back of the small space and searched for something that might activate it. I tried everything: I pushed every button-like object, tested every glowing surface. It didn't take long to try basically everything I could; it's not as if there was a lot there to begin with.

It soon dawned on me that I hadn't done anything to make the platform move the first time; I had only stood on it.

It was the simplest thing in the world, and yet it was also the most frustrating. I decided to give it a go anyway. Turning around, I leaned against the back wall and waited.

I stood there forever, counting down the minutes. I shifted uncomfortably as I stared blankly across the room. I was acutely aware of the silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. My head began throbbing.

I waited.

Nothing happened.

I sighed. My patience was worn thin. This was obviously not working. I got off the platform and turned around to pick the remains of my whittled stick. Just as I began reaching for the pieces, however, the door slid shut. I pulled my hand out just in time.

I stared in subdued shock as the cylinder ascended before my eyes. Without me.

"What?!" I screamed, exasperated. All that time, just standing there, and it chose to leave _now_?

My voice echoed around the gaping room.

The empty room.

My anger drained away, replaced by a numbing weight on my chest. I was so very alone. The only company I had was a dangling mound of machinery that seemed to stare at me, quietly contemplating my demise.

I wanted to give up. I wanted to curl up in a corner and wake up in my own bed, in my own house, with my mom busy baking or talking with a customer or laughing at some stupid thing I did.

Mom. She didn't even know where I was. She was probably so worried. Was it even night yet? It couldn't have been more than a couple hours since I had left that morning, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

I was ready to break. Every bit of energy drained out of me; and yet, there was a different feeling there as well. It took me a moment to understand what it was, but the realization brought me back from the brink of apathy.

It was resolve. Determination. A raw fire deep within my being. No matter what happened, I would escape. There was a strength inside me that would never give up hope, no matter how unrealistic it was. I would make it out of this. I would find a way.

There were still two choices I could make. Neither of them would be as easy as the platform would have been, but I couldn't lose heart. I _had_ to do this; for Mom's sake, if nothing else.

I shook my head, as if chasing away a bothersome fly. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the whittling knife that was still lying at the bottom. The steel blade didn't look long enough to use as leverage. I exhaled slowly and carefully considered my next move.

The knife obviously wouldn't work; if I wanted to attempt to squeeze behind the wall panels, I would need to find a better tool. At this point, there was only one place I could get it: the center of the room.

Although the floor had a few circular plates embedded in it, they looked firmly set in place, probably impossible to remove. I would have to climb the machinery in the middle of the room and find something to cut off.

I eyed the tangle of metal and wires hesitantly; the one thing I didn't want to do had become impossible to avoid. Gritting my teeth, I took a step toward the figure. As I drew closer I noticed how the curving white metal formed a body of some sort, with the smallest part that hung low to the ground reminding me vaguely of the way a head protrudes off of a person's shoulders. The comparison was unnerving.

I didn't see a specific piece that looked as if it could be sawed off. Everything seemed to be attached with metal or some thick wire or other. I was completely unsure of where to start. However, I decided to begin climbing anyway, to see if I could find anything when I was closer.

I placed my bare foot on top of the lowest piece of dangling metal. It shifted under the slight pressure, causing my stomach to flutter. I took a deep breath and glanced up. I located the first piece I could grab hold of and braced myself before pushing downwards, propelling my hand towards the wire. My fingers closed around the handle and I steadied myself before I could slip and fall. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.

I continued along, ignoring the anxious thoughts that arose in my mind as I scanned the body of wires and metal. I tried my best to focus on the task, but I was getting more and more jumpy as time went on. The silence droned on in my ears, slowly driving me mad.

There were many pieces that looked ideal for a crowbar, but most of them would be basically impossible to remove, being attached from numerous points with nothing but solid metal. Eventually, though, I found a medium-sized plate of metal that seemed to work as a cover for the more complex machinery inside of a large black box. I figured I might be able to jam my knife in the seam and pry it off.

The number of things I had needed to force open in one day was surprising.

After positioning myself in such a way that I didn't need my hands to keep me from falling, I reached once more into my leather bag and brought out the knife; its metal point glinted in the underground light. I stared at it briefly before hardening both my gaze and my resolve. I located the seam between the panel and the box and positioned the knife. I subconsciously held my breath as I braced myself and then plunged the knife into the slot.

It worked, surprisingly enough. I had the lid off in a few seconds. I took a moment to peer into the box I had removed the piece from; circuits and other unidentifiable parts filled the mysterious container. I couldn't be bothered to care what they were, especially since I had what I needed. I couldn't wait to leave this eerie room behind.

I finally turned, panel in hand, to get off of the heap of metal I was currently balancing on. I was adjusting my grip on the wire I was clinging to when-

"FILE PURGE COMPLETE. POWER UP INITIATED."

Startled, I jerked backwards. The robotic male voice echoed around the room. I tightened my grip on the wire, managing to keep my position; however, the black steel lid I had been holding seconds before was now clattering to the floor.

For a moment, nothing happened; I simply stood splayed out against the machinery. The sound of metal clanging against metal came from the direction I had dropped the panel, making me flinch. I silently prayed that the chaos was over.

It wasn't.

Something shifted beneath me. It took me a moment but I soon realized exactly what it was. I'll give you a hint: I was standing on it.

The black-and-white machinery was coming to life. My breathing faltered and a frantic energy filled my chest. I did the only thing I could think of and began scrambling down the moving plates and wires.

I found myself in a position where I had a clear shot to the ground. The metal form beneath my feet momentarily steadied; this was my only chance. I tensed my muscles and seized the moment.

"POWER UP COMPLETE," the voice interjected.

I launched myself from the perch. Only, I really didn't. A split second before the jump, the ground beneath me lurched. I stumbled and was unable to correct my course as I flew wildly from the platform. My foot caught on a loose wire as I fell, slowing my momentum only slightly before causing me to flip over, landing on my back.

All the air was knocked from my lungs. Searing pain laced up and down my body. My head was slammed against the ground in an instant. I screamed in pure, silent agony, my lungs unable to conjure up a voice. My vision rapidly grew darker as my gaze drifted across the hulking metal figure above me. One last voice wound through my conscience before I slipped into the dark void.

"Well, someone has been busy."

 **A/N:**

 **Why was the door open? Why was Kyra uneasy over the Aperture logo? Why did the elevator leave the chamber? Why was GLaDOS shut down when Kyra arrived? So many questions, so few answers! Make your predictions now, folks! ;P**

 **Yes, I am aware it's been more than a week since I last updated. Life has been so crazy the past couple of weeks. Also, I was being a perfectionist with my editing as usual.**

 **I can assure you, however, that I've been thinking about the direction I want to take with this fic: timelines, possibilities, references. The works. I can assure you, this will be one heck of a ride!**

 **I've also been working on art for this fanfiction's cover, so stay tuned for that ^-^**

 **Anyway, see ya in the next chapter!**


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